


We all fall down

by mrua7



Series: Strange, scary stories and the Man from U.N.C.L.E. [30]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8296334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon faces some surprises when trying to rescue his partner, and now after the fact, Illya has a mystery on his hands that he is determined to unravel. The story has ties to the "Project Strigas Affair."





	1. Chapter 1

"Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes we all fall down."

A voice echoed in the darkness as Napoleon Solo woke. His head was pounding, and as he felt along the close walls, they were rough like stone, cold and damp to the touch. he was in some sort of cave.

Napoleon hadn't heard that rhyme since he was a little boy, and suddenly he had the image of a bouquet of nosegays fill his head, that and the thought of the songs association with the black death. His worries over his partner suddenly ratcheted up a notch.

"Illya?" He whispered, there was no answer, no breathing in the darkness as Solo groped around with his hands to see if the Russian was lying unconscious. No luck there...

He heard the voice echoing again..."Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes we all fall down."

Napoleon stood slowly, reaching out with his arms to make sure there was standing room. Once he found it safe, he began to feel his way, he followed the voice as it continued to sing the rhyme.

The last thing he remembered was standing at the door to Professor Moriarity's house. Illya made a remark about hoping the man was not like his notorious namesake, the nemesis of the literary figure, Sherlock Holmes. Just as his partner rang the doorbell, the floor on the porch opened up beneath them, and down they went to some sort of tunnel.

"Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes we all fall down." The echoing voice became louder.

He squinted as his eyes adjusted to a bright light that appeared at the end of the tunnel he was travelling. It opened to a larger cave, and there in the middle of it he saw the unmoving body of his partner dangling from a rope...it reminded him of the Alexander the Greater Affair except there was no innocent visible, and he wasn't trapped under a swinging pendulum...so maybe it wasn't exactly like that after all.

The voice repeated the rhyme but Solo couldn't find it's source. Was it real or simply a recording?

"Who are you?" He called out.

"Your worst nightmare,"

Solo had no recognition of the voice, yet he automatically reached for his weapon, not thinking it was gone.

"Haahahaahahaaa," a laugh bellowed. "Do you think I'd be that stupid to leave you armed." It was clear now, the voice had a Slavic accent.

"Hey it was worth a try. So what is it you want of me?" He spotted a single camera lens, and began to move slowly out of its range.

"To see you suffer of course. You're going to watch your Russian friend die. "

"Take me instead, let him go free. Your beef is with me..." he ventured that as a guess.

"No, Mr. Solo. There is no negotiation, no maneuvering on this. Mr. Kuryakin will die and you'll watch and know it's your fault. I'll let you live, and that'll hang heavy on your heart for as long as your miserable life lasts."

"There's nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?" Napoleon walked carefully around the cave, finding a wire leading from a small speaker. He followed it along while the voice droned on, recounting the loss of of a man and woman that brought her to revenge.

The wire led up to a hidden alcove, and there he saw the person speaking into a microphone, it was a young girl. He couldn't believe it at first as the speaker made her sound older.

She turned, catching his presence out of the corner of her eye, and she reached to press a large red button on her console, most likely to send Illya to his death.

Napoleon dove, grabbing the girl and tackling to her to the floor. She screamed, kicking her heels as he ripped one of the wires from the console and tied her hands and feet with it.

"Let me go you, you...murderering animal!" She screeched at him

Napoleon took hold of her chin, forcing her to be quiet and look directly at him. She couldn't have been any more than fourteen years old.

"Who are you, and why are you doing this?"

"My name is Ivanna Kurasov and you caused the death of my father! I want you to suffer!"

"Your father is...was Laslo Kurasov?*

"Yes! They killed him! You sent him to his death because of the con job you and your partner pulled. He was made to look the fool! My mother committed suicide after he died. Now I want you to pay for both their deaths! You should should suffer as I have suffered."

Napoleon frowned, thinking such a young life to be so full of anger and bitterness. "Not today, not tomorrow or ever, sweetheart, " he replied. " Your father was an evil man and brought his death on himself. Your mother made her own decision, and no one forced her to kill herself. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you'll get on with your life. If you play it right, you'll have a long one ahead of you. Take the right path and make up for the wrongful deeds of your father."

"Never!" She spat at him.

He shook his head. "So young to be that bitter..." Solo left her there, heading to his partner and carefully lowering him to safety. This was the ugly side to their business, when an innocent child could be drawn into a world of revenge and deceit. Who knows what her parents taught her to believe. Napoleon only hoped it wasn't too late to straighten her out, but that would be up to UNCLE Medical to help guide her to see the truth.

"Wake up tovarisch, you've missed the party." He gave Illya a gentle tap on the face.

"Mmmmm," Illya moaned. "Whaaa happened?" He finally opened his eyes,

"You're not going to believe it, " Napoleon said, undoing the man's bindings and helping him to his feet. "Something...well someone has come to haunt us, but not the way you'd expect. Does the name Kurasov ring a bell, tovarisch?"

Illya's eyes went wide at that name, thinking of their involvement with his fellow countrymen a few years earlier. "I heard he was dead."

"Ah yes, but his memory lingers on in a way you would never have guessed," Napoleon sadly nodded. "Come on buddy, I need to introduce you to someone..."

.

* "The Project Strigas Affair"

 


	2. Chapter 2

In the days following Ivanna Kurasov's incarceration in the secure section of Medical, Illya Kuryakin stopped by to listen in on the discussions between her and the psychiatrist she'd been assigned.

Since she'd tried to kill him, he deemed there was would be no doctor-patient confidentiality at this point, as there was a need to know more about what had driven such a young girl to attempt such a heinous thing as murder. Illya also wanted to discover how she found out about the connection between her father, Solo and himself.

There was also a concern for the lives of Michael and Ann Donefield * and as a precaution the couple, since they too were involved in the original con that led to Kuraso's disgrace and eventual death. They were found living in Minneapolis, were tucked away in an UNCLE safe house in California. Donefield was unemployed at the moment, so the new scenery for them was apparently a welcome change, even though it was under dire circumstances.

.

Illya stood by, quietly looking down from the observation window, seeing the girl sitting cross-legged on the padded floor, wearing a straight-jacket as she had tried to attack the first doctor assigned to her by raking her fingernails across his face and biting his arm. Medical felt it inadvisable to pump someone so young full of sedatives and decided the jacket was the next best thing to protect their staff from her violent outbursts.

The first meeting with Alexander Waverly did not go well either as Ivanna dove at the Old Man the moment she had her first chance. It was rather amazing to see him, a man of his age, sidestep her so quickly without missing a beat. She ended up falling flat on her face to the floor beside him.

"My dear, you need to learn to behave yourself and act more like a young lady," Waverly chided her without missing a beat. Quite a benign reaction to someone who wanted to kill him.

Security helped her up, shoving her into a chair at the conference table, and holding her down in place with gentle but firm pressure to her shoulders.

Apparently Ivanna Kurasov had become a ward of the State when both her parents died, and Illya was all too familiar with that situation. In a way he could understand her bitterness at suddenly losing her father and mother is such a violent fashion, having lost his own family in a murderous way as well; being a ward of the State, he knew the unpleasantness of life an orphan in the Soviet Union.

Because she was underage and her father a disgraced agent, she lost everything. Her home and possessions were confiscated and she was essentially told she was worthless. That could easily create a desire for revenge against those who caused her new lot in life, making Kuryakin and Solo her targets of choice.

Still it was that fact that ate at him...how could she have known of their involvement with her father?

Kurasov would have never discussed such a thing with her, and most likely would have kept his line of work hidden from his only child. He was a dangerous and clever man, well accustomed to the manipulations and political intrigue of the Soviet Union. He was an ambitious, yet his ambitions were his downfall. He was a man who wanted the spotlight and all accolades for himself.

Illya recalled the man Linkwood saying to Kurasov. "I ask nothing, Excellency. Let all the credit be yours!"

Quite a clever move on Linkwood's part, having the foresight to see the dangerous path Kurasov was treading upon. Laslo's ego fed right into it and that was to be part of his downfall. He was so busy looking for the glory that he never noticed the rats leaving the sinking ship, to to speak.*

Illya came from a similar background as Ivanna and that he thought might help him make a connection with her; though losing his family and his home to the ravages of war; her losses were under different circumstances. He, however, was in the State system longer than she had been, where he accepted his life, she let her anger fester and sought revenge.

Somehow she, being below the minimum age to be released from a State Orphanage, managed to escape and make her way here to the U.S...another conundrum. If she'd been released, it would have been to serve in some menial position or to work at a collective of sorts and she hould have been under close scrutiny.

For one so young...sixteen to be exact, not fourteen as Napoleon had first guessed; that would have shown great determination and creativity, something Illya wasn't quite sure she still could have managed without help.

His thought was KGB had already gotten their hands on her, turning her into a tool to be used against him.

It would have suited KGB's purposes to have her kill him, and possibly Napoleon as well. They never liked the deal the Directorate had made with UNCLE to send a Soviet representative and they were even less thrilled when said Soviet would not share secrets with them.

That put Illya on a non-existent 'hit list' of sorts, with the KBG making attempts on his life now and then.

.

The doctors left her alone in the padded room, having freed her from the straight jacket and Illya remained, watching her as she wrapped her arms around her legs, curled up in a corner rocking herself and humming a familiar melody. It was not a Russian one, though it was common to many European countries. "Ring around the Rosie." Napoleon told him she'd repeatedly sung it in the cave.

It was a song sung by children for hundreds of years and related to the bubonic plague that had swept across so many countries during the Middle Ages. It reached Russia along the Crimean peninsula in 1351, but the worst of the black death happened in 1350. Still he wasn't sure of her affinity to this little rhyme.

_"Kol'tso vokrug Rozi , polnyy karman buketov . Pepel , pepel , vse my padayem."_  He repeated it back to her in Russian, but got no reaction, and that he thought odd as well. Why had she been reciting it in English, and not in her native language?

Finally, she looked up at him, and he saw her demeanor had changed from a frighted teen to a girl seething with hatred.

_"Chto oni s toboy sdelali_what have they done to you?_ " He called out in Russian.

She said nothing, and buried her head in her knees.

.

Illya advised Alexander Waverly of his suspicions and was told to continue observing the girl until such time he might find it possible to talk to her.

After viewing a few more of Ivanna's sessions with the doctors Illya thought she might be ready, as she'd seemed to have calmed down and was actually speaking with the psychiatrist. They were a bit concerned it might cause a setback, but on Waverly's say so, Illya's visiting her would be permitted.

Perhaps their shared background might help her to trust him and understand the web of deceit she had been caught in between her family and the State...if KGB had indeed gotten their claws into her.

*The Project Strigas Affair.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

"You're doing what?" Napoleon blurted out, nearly spilling his mug of hot coffee on himself.

"Yes, I said I am going to try to talk to Miss Kurasov."

"Wow, I'm gone a week and this is the mischief you decide to get yourself into?Illya she tried to kill you, and the last time I saw her she was pretty determined to do that. I think you should leave it to Psyche to see if they can straighten out that little hell-cat or not."

Illya swallowed the last mouthful of tea. "No, I think in spite of her misguided attempt upon my life, I suspect she has been brainwashed by KGB. She could not have managed to do what she had done without assistance and my bet it was they who recruited her to kill, well...actually me, though I think she might have eventually eliminated you if given the chance."

"Aren't you just being a bit paranoid? Granted I know the KGB has you in their sights from time to time, but they've laid off for quite a while now. Isn't it possible they've finally accepted you as a part of UNCLE?"

Illya rose from the table, taking his empty glass with him to the dishwasher's tub sitting by the kitchen. He turned to say something to Napoleon, but not surprisingly, found him dawdling with one of the new secretaries. He gave a little whistle to Napoleon to get his attention.

After taking a napkin handed to him with the pretty blonde's telephone number on it, he caught up to his partner's side.

"Do you not ever give it a rest?" Illya shook his head..."Never mind, do not say it, I know 'when you have got it, you got it..."

'Very good chum, you're finally catching on," Napoleon chuckled as he put his empty mug in the tub, following his partner towards the door.

"Now as I was saying, "Illya stood still, "Until recently, GRU was in a position of favor with Kremlin, but now the pendulum seems to be swinging in favor of  _Komitet gosudarstvennoy bezopasnosti..._  so prior to this change in influence I suspect KGB had been laying low until now."

"What better method of disposing of someone by using an innocent, for all intents and purposes, rather than one of their own agents. If Ivanna had succeeded, KGB would still have been free of all guilt."

"Since she did not succeed, there is no finger to be pointed at them as the party ultimately responsible. I suspect she might have been programmed to either return to Soviet Union or to kill herself, though the former is probably the most likely scenario. Had she escaped us, Ivanna would have been deemed poisoned mad with feelings of revenge for the death of her parents and her harsh life in the State system and condemned to an insane asylum back home. It is so typical of them to manipulate an innocent to suit their purposes."

"So the KGB is using her as a proxy and a scapegoat at the same time? Interesting hypothesis my friend,"Napoleon nodded.

The Commissary doors opened silently and they exited into the corridor, Illya still speaking to Napoleon.

"Yes, this I believe to be true. My background, being similar to hers might help me get through and free her of her conditioning. Napoleon, she is too young to be left like this. I do not want to see her sent to prison, or any such place. She is only a child..."

Napoleon could hear the compassion in his partner's voice and didn't blame him at all. He too wished Ivanna to live a long and happy life, and he hoped his mind, there was a chance his partner might be able to help the girl after all.

"You feeling a bit like 'there but for the Grace of God go I?" Napoleon asked.

"Please, there is no need to bring religion into this. I merely want to help her, that is all."

"Ugh huh, yeah," Solo mumbled. He was guessing that wasn't the case, Illya perhaps thinking he could have been Ivanna...or until he came to UNCLE maybe he already was like her, and wanted to rectify that for her as he did for himself. Did he see a bit of himself when he looked at her?

Napoleon knew little of his partner's past, though he was aware Illya was an orphan and a product of the State Schools until a sponsor from military intelligence spotted him, and after that his life truly belonged to the State. Soviet Intelligence liked to train their operatives at a young age, so who knew how much of his partner's early years were lost to the covert world of Russian intelligence. Who knew what was done to him, as perhaps Ivanna as well?

If Illya was right about the girl, he knew exactly what shel had been through. Could that common background he spoke of really help her see the error of her ways?

Napoleon hoped that commonality and his partner could...

Illya headed off to Medical, followed by Solo, who was eager to see what might come of all this. Napoleon headed up to the observation room, while Illya, after checking his weapons outside the cell, stepped carefully inside, closing the door behind him and waiting for it to be locked.

Ivanna was curled up in one of the corners, wearing a straightjacket for this first encounter.

_"Zdravstvuyte. Vy pomnite , kto ya_ hello. Do you remember who I am?"_

_"Da...Vy ubiytsa moyego ottsa i mat' i prichinoy razoreniya moyey zhizni you are the killer of my father and mother and the cause of the ruin of my life."_

_"Kak vy znayete eto? Kto tebe skazal_how do you know this? Who told you?"_

_"YA prosto znayu , vot i vse ... YA tebya nenavizhu!_I just know, that is all...I hate you!"_

_"Vy dazhe ne znayete menya_you do not even know me,"_  Illya spoke softly.

_"Ukhodi_go away!_ " She spat him and became highly agitated.

" _YA budu seychas, no ya vernus' . Vy i u menya yest' o chem pogovorit' , i mnogo obshchego_I will for now, but I will be back. You and I have much to talk about, and much in common."_

_"YA ne imeyu nichego obshchego s vami, nomesto rozhdeniya, ty predatel'_I have nothing in common with you but a place of birth, you traitor."_

"Hmm. We will see about that." Illya tapped on the door to be let out.

Not surprisingly, it was a short conversation, but one single word she uttered confirmed his suspicions.

_"Predatel_traitor!_ " That was what KGB called him, and no one else.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Illya returned to the girl's cell the next day, trying to get a conversation going with her, still continuing to speak in Russian though he knew she spoke English. Keeping things in her native language might help make her feel more comfortable.

Illya sat cross-legged on the floor a few feet away from her. This time her straight-jacket had been removed.

" _YA znayu , chto eto takoye byt' odna v mire. YA ostalsya sirotoy , a takzhe. YA znayu, kak vy lechilis' , morili golodom , i ya uveren ... protorennoy_I know what it is like to be alone in the world. I was orphaned as well. I know how you were treated, starved and beaten. I am sure of that."_

She looked at him, wide-eyed for just a moment, and he thought there was finally a connection.

_"Lzhets_Liar!"_

_"It is the truth. I was in an orphanage for ten years... at the Moskva School number 7 before they finally closed it. I was sent to a better school for gifted students thought still beaten and mistreated, and it was there Viktor Karkoff found me. He was my sponsor to military intelligence and it was he who gave me to the Directorate and stole the rest of my childhood away from me."_

_"Russia was your mother, and yet you turned on her."_

_"It was mother Russia who turned on me. I was offered up as a sacrificial lamb of sorts by GRU to UNCLE. The Directorate told me I no longer had a country, though I still could retain my citizenship and only would be permitted home if a time of war existed,"_  Illya smiled, knowingly. _"They thought I would not survive a single year with UNCLE, and yet I have flourished. Their deal was simple, provide a warm bodied agent in exchange for UNCLE intelligence. If I died, they would replace me with another warm body."_

_"That is not the truth,_ " she snarled.  _"You defected, that is what they said you did._ "

_"That is KGB talking, is it not? I did no such thing. I did as I was told by GRU. I had no choice in the matter, if I did not comply, they most likely would have had me killed."_

Ivanna stared at him, becoming silent again.

" _Admit it, KGB found you in an orphanage. It was they who told you about me and Napoleon, was it not?"_

_"Da," she said timidly this time._

" _Ivanna,_ " Illya took a leap of faith in his logic,  _"Did they threaten to kill you if you did not cooperate?_

That question must have struck a nerve and she shut down, burying her head to her knees again.

"Enough for today," Illya said in English, "Tomorrow we will talk again, and perhaps if you behave yourself, in a few daysI will take you outside for a walk in the park. I think you might enjoy that, _da?_ "

"You would do that for me?" She responded in English.

"Of course. I know what it is like to be a prisoner, and to long for the outside world...and freedom. It would be good to no longer be under the thumb of another would it not?"

" _Da,"_  came her muffled answer, though she still did not look up at him. That one word was an indirect admittance to him, she had indeed been recruited by KGB.

There was something that struck him odd, and that was her accent. She'd just spoken enough for him to get a handle on it. It was definitely not a that of Muscovite, though that is where her parents and she were supposedly from.

Illya couldn't quite put a finger on it, there were traces of Moskva in her speech patterns, but Leningrad? He was hearing other things as suddenly had an idea..." _Avez-vous faim?"_  He asked her out of the blue, speaking in French.

" _Oui. Je voudrai._.." She stopped, catching herself. " _Nyet,_ " she switched back to Russian.

He smiled, thinking a new piece to the puzzle had now been added. Was Ivanna truly who she said she was?

Illya asked Medical to run tests on the girl as he suddenly suspected she might not be sixteen years old as she had told them.

The next day her tests came back, revealing she was most likely closer to nineteen years of age. After doing more research on the late Laslo Kurasov, Illya found out the man's daughter should have been sixteen as Ivanna had first told them.

The prisoner had been moved to a regular cell, complete with a bed, and a table and chairs. Illya returned to her, this time armed with hard facts, ones that a pragmatist such as he thrived upon. He stood in front of her, not sitting this time, looking down at her curled up on her bunk.

_"Dobroye utro, Ivanna, yesli eto deystvitel'no vashe imya. YA dumayu, chto vy ne byli pravdivymi nam_good morning, Ivanna, if that is really your name. I think you have not been truthful with us."_  Illya kept his voice calm but firm, not wanting to frighten her into silence.

_"Menya zovut Ivanna Kurasov_my name is Ivanna Kurasov!_ " She insisted rather loudly. His eyes told her she was nervous though, as she began fidgeting, twirling a strand of hair around one of her index fingers.

"And how old are you?" Illya knelt on one knee in front of her."

"Sixteen. I told you that already!"

_"Lzhets_Liar._ " He parroted back what she had called him the day before.

" _Nyet!"_

_"YA dumayu , vy znayete, kto yavlyayetsya real'nym lzhets zdes' _I think you know who is the real liar here,"_  Illya shot back at her.

It was then Ivanna began to cry. That was the first sign of her acting like a normal, frightened young girl...well, a nineteen year old.

"Was it an act?" Illya asked himself,"Was she merely a trained operative of KGB and putting on a show?"

"Y _ou said we could go outside today,_ " she sniffled.

"I said if you were a good girl, which you are not being at the moment. Ivanna, I want the truth from you," this time he spoke coldly, the icy blueness of his eyes staring at her.

_"Was Laslo Kurasov really your father?_ " Illya asked her point blank.

Her expression became one of fear.

 


	5. Chapter 5

"She failed! I warned you her conditioning and training might not have have been deep enough, or sufficient time given to her!"The man he was speaking to was facing the window in the hotel room where he and his associate had been staying. He turned, his hands still clasped behind his back.

His hair was still dark, though there were signs of grey at his temples, and he stared at the man speaking to him with narrow, piercing eyes.

"Comrade, I knew it was a mistake to engage your services. Your methods of brainwashing are obviously substandard, and I will no longer be needing you." Grigory Vladek raised his silenced pistol, shooting the man and killing him point-blank.

He was furious his plans had gone awry, and now he needed to move quickly before his complicity was discovered. He had to find the girl, as she could implicate him in the attempt on Kuryakins life. Failure meant trouble, but had he succeeded in having the U.N.C.L.E. agent killed, it would have helped him move up in the hierarchy of the KGB.

His superiors would have been most grateful for the elimination of the traitor Illya Kuryakin, though it would not have been made public knowledge it was Vladeks or the KGB's doing. Still, he would have had the bragging rights to having brought the traitor down and a promotion as well, but now the girl could bring him down instead. GRU would not be appreciative of his efforts, or perhaps the Kremlin either and, therefore, he could not take the risk.

She needed to be taken care of, and quickly.

The question was how to do that, as now she was in UNCLE custody, and if her conditioning were broken, Vladek knew he was doomed.

.

Illya again sat in the cell with Ivanna, today she was not as talkative as she had been the day before, if that could have been considered talkative. She had curled herself up in a ball, rocking to and fro, again reciting the rhyme over and over...

_"Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes we all fall down. Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes we all fall down. Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes we all fall down...all fall down, we all fall down, down...fall down."_

" _Ivanna, pochemu vy postoyanno povtoryal, chto ?Ivanna, why do you keep repeating that_?" Illya asked her.

_"YA ne znayu. On zastryal v moyey golove , i ya dolzhen pozvolit' eto._I do not know. It is stuck inside my head and I have to let it out. I need to let it out..."_

He wondered if that were somehow a key to her conditioning.

_"Can you tell me today, was Laslo_ _Kura_ sov your father?"

_"Yes, he was my father,_ ' she said in a monotone voice.

_"Ivanna, you are nineteen years of age. Kurasov's daughter is sixteen. Can you explain that to me?"_  Illya wondered if Laslo's child was even alive at this point.

_"I am sixteen, you are wrong."_  She buried her head in her knees again, muffling her words, starting to recite the rhyme again. It seemed that saying it bolstered her confidence and that gave Illya an idea.

_"Ivanna I want you to repeat these words after me please, can you try that?"_  He spoke slowly, deliberately... his voice hypnotic, and he hoped somehow he could replace her KGB conditioning with some of his own suggestions.

She lifted her head, nodding to him dutifully.

He began reciting another rhyme to her, an authentic Russian one, though much of it was nonsense words, he hoped the rhythm of it would help her focus.

_"Tryntsy- bryntsy, bubentsy ,_

_Razzvonilis' udal'tsy,_

_Digi, digi, digi , don,_

_Vykhodi skoreye von! "_

_"Bubentsy- sani- kolokola,_

_Tryntsy- bryntsy- zvuk kolokola sani -_

_Razzvonilis' udal'tsy- v etom kontekste_

_Digi, digi, digi, don- Digi- Digi- Digi -Don_

_Vykhodi skoreye von ! skoreye von ! "_

_"Sleigh Bells" - sleigh-bells,_

_Tryntsy-bryntsy- sound of sleigh-bells_

_Razzvonilis Merry Men... in that context 'boys or children playing noisily,' the line was sort of old Russian, referring to some fairy-tales in a manner of speaking._

_Digi, Digi, Digi, Don- digi-digi-digi-don" Nonsense words imitating the sound of a bell._

_Get out there soon!- Get out there soon." *_

The girl repeated everything word for word,eventually entering into a trance-like state. At that point Illya began repeating the last two lines, over and over again.

_"Digi, digi ,digi ,don- Digi- Digi- Digi -Don. Vykhodi skoreye von! - Vykhodi skoreye von ! Digi, digi, digi ,don - Digi- Digi- Digi -Don. Vykhodi skoreye von! -Vykhodi skoreye_ _Digi, digi ,digi ,don- Digi- Digi- Digi -Don. Vykhodi skoreye von! - Vykhodi skoreye von ! Digi, digi, digi ,don - Digi- Digi- Digi -Don. Vykhodi skoreye von! -Vykhodi skoreye" von!_

The more Ivanna repeated it, the deeper she was drawn into a trace.

Illya stopped, studying her with a discerning eye.  _"What is your real name?"_

_"Ekaterina Ivanova Aliyeva."_

_"Where are you from?"_

_"Leningrad."_

_"Did you live in an orphanage in Moskva?"_

_"No, with my parents, they worked for the..._ "she hesitated answering.

_"Go ahead,"_  Illya gently urged her still speaking Russian,  _"your secrets are safe with me."_

_"They worked for secret police in Moskva."_

_"Were you recruited by KGB?"_

_"Yes."_

_"By whom?"_

_"Grigory Vladek."_

That came as no surprise as the man had been an associate of Laslo Kurasov, and one of the rats who abandoned the man as he sank quickly.

_"How long ago did Vladek contact you?"_

_"Six weeks ago."_

_"What did he instruct you to do?"_

_"I was to kill you."_

_"Why?"_

_"He did not tell me."_

That was a disappointment. Why would Vladek want him dead as Kuryakin had little to no interaction with him during the Project Strigas Affair. Illya wondered if somehow the mans association with Kurasov ended up being a blot on his record. Perhaps he wanted revenge? UNCLE was ultimately responsible for Laslo's downfall.

Many had become disgraced by a simple association with the wrong person, and often, lost their lives for much less at the hands of KGB. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense, but then again, the assassination of a traitor would have added a commendation to Vladek's record.

As Illya ran his fingers through his blond hair, he realized his death would have been a stepping stone for the man's upward movement within the Secret Police.

_"At the conclusion of your mission, what were your final instructions?"_ He continued his questioning.

_"I was to take my own life."_

He was slightly surprised at that. The girl had not made one attempt to kill herself since her capture; she had been more defensive than anything...not the behaviour of one programmed to die by their own hand. That made him wonder if her conditioning from KGB had been faulty, six weeks was not a very long time to truly brainwash and train someone.

He made her repeat the new rhyme again, over and over...offering a different set of instructions to her now, ones he hoped would supercede those Vladek had given her.  _"When I snap my fingers, you will wake and feel completely refreshed. Do you understand me?"_

_"Yes."_

Illya quickly counted,  _"Odin,dva, tri_." He loudly snapped his fingers.

The girl blinked her eyes rapidly for a few seconds, and opened them wide.

_"Zdravstvuyte Yekaterina , vy znayete , kto ya_hello Ekaterina, do you know who I am?"_  He smiled, still speaking very softly to her.

" _Da, vy Illya Kuryakin_yes, you are Illya Kuryakin_." For the first time, she smiled at him.

_"I vy khotite menya ubit'_and do you want to kill me?"_

_" Zachem mne eto delat'_why would I want to do that?"_

.

* Thanks to injj for the rhyme and translation.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Illya walked into the small, windowless office he shared with his partner, and found Napoleon leaning back in his chair, with his feet resting on his desk. In his hands was a blue UNCLE file folder.

"How did it go today?" He looked up at his Russian friend.

"Better than I had hoped. She is, or I should say was working for the KGB and is not Kurasov's daughter, and the man responsible for all this is... Grigory Vladek."

"Vladek? Wow," Napoleons eyebrows raised at that name as he put his file down. "That slimy so-and-so is still around huh?" He had a recollection of a tall dark man his trench coat and bowler hat ; he seemed to creep around, hovering at times like a vulture.

"Apparently so." Illya flopped down to his desk chair.

"His motive?"

"Have no clue, as she was not forthcoming with that information. I believe, however, I was able to break her conditioning as it was fairly weak. What I do know is she is not Ivanna Kurasov."

"So who is she?" Napoleon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Her name is Ekaterina Aliyeva, she is approximately nineteen years of age and born in Leningrad. Her parents both work for the secret police in Moskva. She was recruited only six weeks ago by Vladek and was brainwashed to kill me, and after the fact, regardless of the outcome, she was to commit suicide. Her spirit is too strong though, as that was why she has been so combative; she did not want to kill herself."

"You found all this out today? I know you're a master of interrogation, but how'd you manage it?"

Illya's eyes brightened. "The rhyme she has been humming and singing was the clue, as apparently it was part of her programming. I hypnotized her using a Russian rhyme to plant new suggestions and countermand Vladek's conditioning."

Napoleon, as usual, was impressed by his partner's uncanny ability remain so focused on a task; he was like a tenacious badger, not letting go until he got what he wanted. Solo was glad the Russian was on their side, and would never want to be on the receiving end of one of his interrogations.

Napoleon was pretty good at reading Illya's moods and as he studied his blond partner's face, and he could see the man was not satisfied with what he'd achieved so quickly.

"So now what?"

"That is my dilemma, though I may have helped Ekaterina back to becoming herself, what do I do from now? She cannot simply be set free here or sent back to the Soviet Union, as I am sure her life would still be in danger. Surely Vladek knows we have her in custody."

"A new identity...a safe house perhaps?" Napoleon suggested.

"No, he would find her, as he as all the resources of KGB agents here embedded in the United States, and do not kid yourself, there are quite a few."

"I thought your KGB was the Soviet Union's Secret Police, dealing with internal matters."

Illya tilted his head, giving a wink. "KGB has its fingers in many pots."

"Maybe we can take advantage of that fact, that is if you want to lure Vladek out into the open and force him to reveal his hand, a public embarrassment, shall we say?"

Illya grinned. "A scam, just like we did with Project Strigas?"

"My thoughts exactly, old chum," Napoleon grinned back at him.

Two days later, word was leaked to the right people about the prisoner, Ivanna Kurasov, being taken to a safe house in Brooklyn. From there she was to be transported to a hotel next to LaGuardia airport to be put on a flight the following evening, bound for an undisclosed location in the United States.

Vladek listened in to his radio, monitoring the UNCLE transmission, thinking they were such fools, to talk openly of the times and places the transport was to take place. The name of Ivanna Kurasov was used only once during the broadcast, and that told him she had not been broken. Still she had to be eliminated as she posed too big a threat to revealing his secret.

The next evening Grigory positioned his black sedan near the entrance to Del Floria's and watched as the blonde girl was escorted to a waiting vehicle by Kuryakin and his American partner, Solo.

He wrung his hands together in delight, thinking he could not only get the girl, but Kuryakin as well. Solo's death would be a little bonus on top of the others. The KBG agent started his car, pulling out from his spot alongside the cub and followed the car being driven by his former Russian compatriot.

Illya drove carefully through the busy New York streets, weaving in and out of traffic, obviously trying to avoid being stuck in any traffic jams. Vladek smile, this one...Kuryakin was a cautious one, but his own organization betrayed him by their pretentious confidence in their foolish radio transmissions.

He had no doubt this U.N.C.L.E. would eventually fail, as they were a bourgeois self-righteous conglomerate of weak nations. The fact that GRU was duped into sending a representative proved their gullibility, and the Kremlin approving it... pure stupidity.

Soon there would be a new Premier, and once Illya Kuryakin was dead, perhaps the ties with U.N.C.L.E. would finally be cut. What they gave the Soviet Union in exchange for a representative agent, was gratuitous at best and not of any significance from and an intelligence point of view. And Kuryakin, the traitor had refused to spy for Mother Russia, and for that alone, he deserved to die.

Vladek hung back as he followed the UNCLE vehicle onto the FDR Drive, and it not long until they reached the Battery Tunnel. He continued after them, making a U-turn then a right to Church Avenue, another right to Lloyd Street, and finally coming to a stop on Erasmus Street in Brooklyn. It was there they pulled up and parked the car.

Vladek eased his sedan curbside not far away, and watched as they exited their vehicle, looking around nervously at first, then hurried the girl into a nearby brownstone. He decided here was not a good place to make his move as the building was too formidable. The hotel they'd be taking her to near the airport, however, would make for a softer target to pounce upon them and offered an easier get away. He could get to the airport and board a flight in no time.

He smiled, thinking his plans would soon come to fruition, and when he returned to the Soviet Union with his grisly prize...Kuryakin's finger as proof he was dead, Vladek envisioned at last a life a more suitable to one of his talents.

The blot of his association with that fool Kurasov would be erased at last...

 


	7. Chapter 7

Once Napoleon and Illya were satisfied that everything was secure within the safe house, they helped Ekaterina settle in, showing her to an upstairs bedroom.

For some reason the room happened to be very feminine and frilly, with white lace eyelet curtains on the window, and a matching spread on the bed, there were a pair of floral throw pillows as well. Small pictures on the wall of pastoral scenes filled with bright flowers added to the softness of the room."

_"O, eto krasivo_h it is beautiful_ ," the girl sighed to Illya,"my home back in Moskva is not pretty at all like this." She flopped on the bed, relishing the comfort.

Illya sat beside her, smiling at her simple enjoyment.

_"Vy khotite , chtoby vernut'sya domoy_do you want to go back home?"_  He suddenly asked her quite directly.

She sat up, looking at him with a pensive gaze. "I am not sure. I sort of miss my mother and father, though not much as I rarely see them. They are too busy to make time for me."

"Would you like to stay here in the United States?"

She cocked her head. "How could I?"

"Things could be arranged, if that is what you want. Do not make up your mind quickly, think it over. Now rest. I will bring you tea and something to eat."

The girl slipped off the bed, touching his arm. "No matter what I decide...I just want to say thank you for saving me Illya."

"It has been my pleasure, but we are not out of the woods yet, as we must still deal with Vladek."

"That thought frightens me." She sat back down on the bed curling up in her familiar ball.

"I promise you Ekaterina, you will be safe." That was the one thing he was pretty sure of in this whole affair. Illya left her, heading down to the kitchen to prepare the tea and their meager meal.

Napoleon was stretched out on a sofa in the sitting room in the front of the house, his Special resting on the coffee table beside him.

"She all settled in?"

"Yes, she is a little frightened, but that is to be expected. So all the chess pieces are in place?"

"Yep, Mr. Waverly made the phone calls for us. We're all good," Napoleon answered with tone of satisfaction in his voice.

Illya inhaled deeply, parking himself on the arm of the sofa. "Tell me this is going to work my friend?"

"Of course it is. Don't my plans always do that?"

Illya let go a snicker...

"Oh ye of little faith Illya Nickovich," Napoleon grinned at him.

"Do you want some tea? I am going to put on a kettle, and warm some soup for us.

"No coffee huh?"

"No, safe house is not very well stocked."

"All right tea it is then. What kind of soup?"

"Does it matter, soup is soup."

"Now was that necessary," Napoleon frowned.

Illya harumphed his answer. "I will tell you once I open the can in the kitchen. A few minutes later Illya called out, 'chicken soup.' He had no need to see his partner's face as he knew he'd be happy at that.

Illya brought the tea and soup to both his partner and the girl. As the night progressed the agents took turns standing watch just in case Vladek decided to make his move on them both had their doubts, as the building was too sturdy and the escape too convoluted to make for a clean getaway.

A knock came at the front door and both agents quickly rose, standing on either side of it with their weapons drawn.

"Who is it?" Solo called.

"Pizza delivery darling."

"And Chinese too, mate."

Solo opened the door, letting them inside.

"Tell me you do have real food with you?" Illya asked.

"A veritable feast," a certain auburn-haired agent smiled.

.

Grigory Vladek sat huddled in his sedan for the night, permitting himself to take only brief cat naps. He was hungry, but could and would do without, as he was trained to dismiss such things.

He kept a watchful eye on the brownstone, seeing a single light turned off upstairs, no doubt that was where the girl was. He cursed himself, wishing he had but a few grenades, as they would solve his dilemma in one fell swoop, but all he had was his Tokarov and that would have to do...besides he was a deadly marksman. He continued his surveillance; there was no movement, save the delivery of takeout food.

They would all be dead very quickly, and Vladek relished that thought, letting himself nod off again.

.

The next morning the KGB agent was awake in his car, looking a little worse for wear. He had taken the chance, walking a few doors down to a deli where he bought a hot cup of coffee and retreated quickly to his car.

As he sipped his dark beverage he admitted this coffee here in America was quite good, nothing like it that he could recall back in Moskva. He drained the last mouthful from the paper cup, and tossed it to the floor of the car the moment as he observed Kuryakin exiting the brownstone.

Vladek watched as the agent examined the car, checking it for explosives no doubt, and when the coast was clear Solo came through the door with the girl and quickly helped her into the car. Kuryakin started up the engine and they were off.

There was little traffic this time of the morning and he pulled out, hanging back so as to not be seen.

It was but a short drive to the motel near the airport and again the Russian agent watched as Kuryakin pulled into their car into the parking lot. Vladek parked his car at the curb, waiting to pull in once the UNCLE agents and the girl were checked in.

The sign said 'no vacancy' as that had surely been pre-arranged for security reasons, and the empty lot told Vladek there would be no witnesses to the assassination of these people.

The scene was quiet, and with no one around; he pulled his car into the lot, parking near the hotel room where his quarry had sequestered themselves.

Exiting the black sedan with his Tokarov in hand; he crept along the building to room number seven, where the unsuspecting trio thought they were safely hidden away. Grigory was a big man and would have no trouble kicking in the flimsy motel door and taking them by surprise.

_"Odin, dva, tri..._ "he counted mentally, slamming his large foot against the door, breaking it open and cracking the door frame in the process.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Vladek's pistol was aimed and ready, but what he saw made him freeze as he burst into the motel room.

Kuryakin, Solo and a woman, definitely not Ekaterina had their weapons drawn and already aimed at him, as if they knew he'd be coming.

"Hi there darling," April smiled, pulling off a blond wig."Come to join our little party?"

Vladek's face reddened, dumbstruck for the moment.

A man stepped out from the shadows, a weapon in his hands as well, but like Vladek's it was a Tokarov as well. He was Mikhail Khodorkovsky, the head of security for the Russian Embassy in New York and a man with ties to the GRU.

"Grigory Vladek, in the name of the Soviet Ambassador, you are ordered to lower your weapon and surrender it."

Given he was outgunned, Vladek tossed the Tokarov to the floor, it landing with a thud at Kuryakins feet.

"You do know that I am KGB," he warned.

"Yes, a KGB agent acting without orders," Khodorkovsky said. "You are hereby under arrest for plotting to murder a Soviet representative to the United Network Command as well as using an innocent Soviet citizen to carry out your murderous scheme. And when that plan failed you came here to murder Illya Kuryakin, and Ekaterina Aliyeva, personally and no doubt the American as well."

Vladek lowered his gaze, making a sudden move, turning to retreat out the damaged motel door.

"Where do you think you're going mate?" Mark Slate smiled, pointing his Special directly at the man's chest.

Khodorkovsky approached Vladek, handcuffing his hands behind his back.

"You are being placed into custody to be returned to the Soviet Union to face the charges made against you," Mikhail said, turning to face the UNCLE agents, "Thank you for bringing this to our attention. I will expect Miss Aliyeva to be turned over to our custody at the Embassy by day's end."

"Well guv, there's a little problem with that," Mark grinned sheepishly. "Seems Miss Aliyeva snuck out of the safe house this morning...haven't a clue where she is."

Khodorkovsky shook his head, not being stupid; he knew there was game playing going on. It was not worth his efforts to deal with that at the moment. "I see, so hopefully she will turn up sooner or later and you will let us know, da?"

Illya nodded to the man, " _To yest', yesli ona reshayet raskryt' yeye mestonakhozhdenii. Eto yeye vybor sdelat'_that is if she decides to reveal her whereabouts. It is her choice to make_."

.

A two weeks later Kuryakin stood at one of the platforms at Penn Station. Beside him was Ekaterina, her hair now colored a rich chocolate-brown,she was dressed very much like a young American working girl and carrying a small suitcase.

"Thank you Illya for not holding it against me for trying to kill you."

"It was not you, it was Vladek. You were merely his tool," he smiled at her reassuringly. "Now when you arrive in Schenectady, you will be met by a female agent named McGowan. She will be easily recognizable as she has red hair and is very petite. She will give you the code,'Uncle Alex will be pleased to see you.' You will be shown you to your new apartment, and your job at the 'Scotia' diner. You have been set up with a small bank account to help with your expenses." He handed a train ticket and a bank passbook to her along with documents proving her new identity.

"I do not know how to thank you," Ekaterina smiled.

"You made your decision to stay here, and it was the least I could do to help a fellow Russian with her choice at freedom. Remember though, you are no longer Ekaterina Aliyeva; you are now Kathleen Anderson and are of Swedish descent. So no more speaking Russian." He gently tapped the end of her pert nose with is finger.

"Swedish descent." She laughed, "It is a good thing I speak Swedish."

"I know," Illya smiled.

"Hmm, you know more about me than you are letting on."

"I am thorough in my work," he said placidly. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, shaking it as he wished her luck.

"Remember _Kathleen,_ You must remain vigilant at all times _and_  if you have any problems, I am but a phone call away. ." He handed her his business card.

"All aboard for Schenectady," a conductor called out.

"One last word, maybe two in Russian? Ekaterina whispered. " _Spacibo...tovarisch._ " She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before boarding.

Illya remained there, watching the train as it slowly pulled away from the station, lost in thought, as he hoped the conditioning he'd given her would help. All he had planted as a suggestion was to 'do no harm to others and be a happy.' Like the last line of the rhyme he'd used to hypnotize her; she was indeed running away, but to a new life.

Illya whispered to himself as the train disappeared from sight.

_"Tryntsy- bryntsy, bubentsy ,_

_Razzvonilis' udal'tsy,_

_Digi, digi, digi , don,_

_Vykhodi skoreye von! "_

_"Bubentsy- sani- kolokola,_

_Tryntsy- bryntsy- zvuk kolokola sani -_

_Razzvonilis' udal'tsy- v etom kontekste_

_Digi, digi, digi, don-Digi- Digi-Digi-Don_

_Vykhodi skoreye von! Vykhodi skoreye von!"_

_._

_"_ And who are you trying to hypnotize now?" A familiar voice spoked from behind the Russian.

"Napoleon? What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd see the young lady off as well, but I guess I got here a little to late." He handed a small nosegay he'd brought with him to a woman passing by."Have a lovely day," he wished her, bringing a smile to her face.

"Just a little," Illya replied as the two of them began walking towards the exit from the station.

Napoleon looked at his wristwatch noting it was still early. "Tell you what chum, let's go have some coffee and breakfast...on me." His communicator chirped, interrupting his train of thought as he pulled it from his breast pocket. "Solo here."

"Ah yes Mr. Solo, good morning. Done seeing off Miss Aliyeva?" Waverly said.

Napoleon's brow furrowed as he wondered how hell the Old Man knew he was at the train station.

"Yes sir," Illya spoke up. "She is bound for Schenectady as we speak."

"Hmm, very well then. A piece of news from the Soviet Union just came across my desk. Grigory Vladek has escaped custody, no doubt with help from some of his compatriots in the KGB. I have ordered our agent, Miss McGown. to remain in Schenectady for the next month or so to keep an eye on Miss Aliyeva. In the mean time, you gentlemen, are headed to the Yukon. You'll be flying to the West coast and from there will travel north via submarine. It seems our old friend G. Emory Partridge as resurfaced yet again. Report to headquarters immediately for your mission briefing. Out." *

Napoleon looked at his partners face, detecting a bit of emotion in it, disappointment perhaps? He thought that a strange reaction to the news about Vladek.

"You okay chum?"

"I am fine, I guess you will have to owe me that breakfast enh?" Illya tried brushing off his partner's insecurity, not wishing to give away his concern at not being able to see Miss McGowan for at least a month." **

"Not worried about Vladek coming back?"

"Nyet, he is running for his life. The last thing on his mind is bothering us or the girl. KGB will no doubt catch up with him, as well as purge those who aided him in his escape. They will all end up in a gulag, if they do not go before a firing squad. Betrayal in KGB is a very serious matter..."

"Is it Partridge that has you looking so... _thoughtful_?"

"Napoleon, I am fine."

Solo left it at that, figuring eventually he'd find out what was on the Russian's mind..."'

.

* Ref "The Yukon Affair" Season 2 mfu.

** Ref. "The Mind Control Affair" by mlaw on Fanfiction.net  mlaw is my other user name.

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End file.
